


New Dawn

by WarpedHatter888



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-05 03:58:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1804471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarpedHatter888/pseuds/WarpedHatter888
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Your old life ends here. It’s buried in this house. From now on you will live a new life, be a new person. Your new name shall be–”</p><p>Christa is starting anew. She has arrived at university under a new name, banned from her old life and anything from her past, she must make her own way. She tries to make friends, get on with her lessons and live without disturbing anyone. She observes life and those around her, wanting to be praised and find happiness, but is afraid getting involved with the world around her. Everything changes when she meets Ymir, who lives fiercely in the moment and never seems to have anything to hide. Christa finds herself falling in love, whatever consequences that may have. </p><p>University AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Day

Chapter One

“Your old life ends here. It’s buried in this house. From now on you will live a new life, be a new person. Your new name shall be–”

The drive to campus from the train station had been long and especially awkward. The taxi driver who picked her up kept trying to make conversation and she found herself obliged to assist him. She drummed her fingers against the magazines in her lap, glancing out at the fields and hills spreading out past her window, feeling more and more anxious the further the taxi took her from civilisation.

“You’ll probably be getting a lot of taxis,” the taxi driver said brightly. “You students are always going out, eh?”   
“Erm, yes,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.   
“I remember when I was about your age, me and my mates would go out on the pull-” He started into something of a rant, turning his head to glance back at her in a somewhat unsettling fashion. She sighed internally and nodded her head, offering him a wide, encouraging smile. Occasionally she would chime in with an appreciative, ‘Oooh’ or ‘Is that right?’ in order to maintain the illusion she was not only listening but also incredibly interested in his story. When he was finished she offered a cheerful laugh; her driver grinned from ear to ear, evidently proud of his story telling abilities, before turning up the radio to hear the news. 

She sank further into her seat, peering out timidly at the dull grey sky. The green fields were merging together, almost like she was surrounded by the ocean. She drummed her fingers along her bag and closed her eyes. She could feel the knot in her stomach coming away, her anxiety eating at her insides as she tried to calm down. This wouldn’t do. There was no turning back from this point, she reminded herself. From here on out, this is who you are now. 

But who am I? 

She could see her reflection in the window, focusing on her own pale blue eyes staring right back at her. She had always disliked her eyes. They were too pale; they could become icy cold too easily. She stared back at her own sullen reflection and closed her eyes again. As her lashes fluttered open, she realised her eyes were brighter, a smile at her lips. It brightened up her whole face. 

I will be a warm person, she decided. I will be warm and kind and good. People will like me; I just know they will, if I work hard enough. In this new town, I’ll become the new me. It all starts there. 

They had told her at the house with the red door that she would be moving into a flat with three others about her age. Two girls and a boy. Perhaps they would be friends? That would be nice. She had never had a friend before. In the house with the red door there had been no kids her age. Her grandparents had been kind, but it was not the same as having a friend. It was not the same as feeling like she belonged. Her best friends had been the horses her grandfather kept on the ranch. People were different from horses. People could take a dislike to you much easier. She frowned, trying to work out how she could introduce herself to her new flatmates. What if she came across too distant? What if she was too much? What if they hated her? 

Hello, she imagined herself saying, offering a hand – did people still shake hands when they first met – My name is – Oh no. That was the other conundrum. How was she going to introduce herself now? They had made it perfectly clear on the day she left that her name simply wouldn’t do anymore. That name was buried at the house with the red door. 

He had told her the new name she would live under from now on. Christa Lens. It felt wrong. It didn’t feel like her. Maybe that wasn’t the problem? Maybe she just had to be a bit more like Christa Lens? Christa Lens was a good girl with lots of friends, someone people admired, and someone who was kind and good and did everything right. 

Nice to meet you, she imagined herself saying, her head tilted to the side, a bright little smile on her face. I’m Christa Lens; it’s nice to meet you! 

Perfect. It was almost like she really meant it. 

*

It was dark by the time the taxi climbed the hill to the campus. Christa had glimpsed a few clubs and takeouts on the way. They had been stuck in traffic outside a loud dark bar already blaring music from the doors. She wondered briefly if Christa Lens was the type of girl to go to those kinds of places. Maybe if her new university friends were? She would have to see. Christa’s stomach grumbled as the taxi climbed the hill, through the university gates. The campus was large, situated across three hills, the gates surrounded by a thick forest where, apparently, some classes were held. 

She peered out of the window at the rows of buildings. The old fashioned chapel in the distance, the high tower on the hill just a short walk from the centre. She could see the shiny modern building of the student union close by, she recognized it from the brochures. There were tall apartment buildings in the opposite direction, some of them shiny and new, whilst others looked fifty years old with wide old fashioned windows and ugly red roofs. The taxi split off into a small road between the student halls. They would be close. 

Rosemary Hall, Flat 135, her induction papers had said. 

“Here we are, duck,” the taxi driver said brightly, pulling up outside a tall dark block building beside the wood. It was gothic in style; she recognized the high arched windows from a photograph of her mother when she was young. A gothic church, that is, her grandma had said. It was where your mother had her first communion; it was where we always hoped she’d get married. Though her mother never did marry and nobody had ever taken Christa to the beautiful gothic church they said was so important to their family.   
This building was taller; it had thick glass windows, arched ceilings and a black door with a tiny electronic pad across the bottom. It was enormous. She felt like an ant up close to it like this. Christa’s feet felt light as they touched the ground. She trembled, fumbling in her handbag for the keys they had given her. She picked them out from behind the second inner pocket and smiled warmly at the taxi driver as he unloaded her suitcase from the back of the taxi. 

“Thank-you for all your help,” she said.   
“No problem, lovie. You take care now.”   
“Thanks, you too,” Christa said, waving to him as he clambered back inside. She watched the taxi drive away before she tugged her suitcase up the steps to the front door. Christa frowned as she couldn’t see where to put her key. There was no key hole for either of the keys on the little silver chain. She bit her lower lip, glancing along the numbers on the shiny metal pad. They were sorted into two rows, ranging from 100 to 185. This building has eighty five flats inside? It was almost insane to imagine. This probably wouldn’t make a good impression, she thought as she pushed the button for flat 135, but how else was she going to get inside? 

The machine gave a low, tired sounding buzz as she pushed it. For a moment there was nothing – surely someone had to be in, she thought desperately – then suddenly a girl’s voice on the other end. 

“Hello?”   
“Erm, hi,” Christa said, her cheeks going pink. “I’m one of your flatmates, only, I erm, I can’t seem to be able to get inside the building.”  
“Oh, no worries, come right up. I’ll buzz you in,” the girl said cheerfully.  
“Hey, it could be anyone, don’t just-!” Another voice said in the background, it sounded like a boy speaking; only they were cut off as a loud buzz echoed from the machine and the door clicked open. Christa let out a sigh of relief as she tugged her suitcase inside after her. 

The inside of the building was surprisingly modern in comparison to the arched windows and cathedral like ledges of outside. There was a reception desk just ahead that appeared to have been abandoned for the night, two wooden doors which had clear windows at the centre revealing a hallway ahead and a wide staircase. Beside the reception, Christa spotted a map. She walked to it, wincing at the squeaking noise her suitcase made against the laminate flooring. According to the map, flat 135 was on the fourth floor. But the elevator was just beside the staircase. That was lucky. The suitcase was heavy enough as it was. Christa tugged it along, kicking the wooden doors open gently as she pulled it through. 

The elevator made a discomforting creaking sound as it descended. She frowned a little as the doors slid open revealing a faded red elevator with shiny yellow buttons for each floor. It looked a decade older than the foyer. Christa dragged her case in and pushed the fourth floor button. The elevator gave a groan and began to rise. She leant back against the wall and spotted a poster on the adjacent wall for a horror movie festival. It was student movie festivals; that could be good? Perhaps they did some of their filming in this creepy elevator, she mused. It was definitely creepy enough.

The elevator stopped at the fourth floor, giving an uncertain little rumble as it landed. The doors creaked as they parted and Christa tugged her case along with her as she stepped out. The corridor was long and narrow, it smelt strongly of plastic and anti-bacteria scrub. It was eerily quiet for a student dormitory, she noted. It felt a little like she was the only person on this floor? She glanced across at the doors approaching. There was Flat 133 on one side and on the other, Flat 138. The wall paper was faded, what was once probably a handsome shade of cream, now seemed almost grey, there were vague little diamond shapes cut alongside the walls, but those were mostly faded too. Christa passed the other flats, turning as the corridor parted on the left, tucked into a corner beside an ugly painting of a lone cow on a bright green field, was lat 135. Christa picked out her keys again and breathed a sigh of relief as it clicked and let her inside. 

“See, I told you, if it was a murderer they wouldn’t have a key,” said a girl’s voice. 

Christa looked up from the floor as she kicked the door close behind her, to see a tall dark haired girl with bright brown eyes and a friendly smile. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Christa Lens,” she said, offering a hand – people probably still shook hands with each other – “I’m sorry about the confusion with the door.”  
“Not a problem, I got really lost when I first started,” the girl said, laughing and shaking her head. “I was on the complete other side of campus. Connie here has button paranoia. I told you it was just the new room-mate.” 

A short boy with a shaved head and light brown eyes popped his head out from the kitchen, he scowled at the girl.   
“You still just can’t go buzzing in every person who says they lost their key.” He glanced across at Christa and offered her a grin. “Hi, I’m Connie and the bone-head over there is Sasha.”   
“Nice to meet you,” she said, “So it’s just the three of us so far?”  
“Oh no, Connie doesn’t live here,” Sasha said. “He’s just visiting me. The others are out at the moment. There’s another girl, Annie, I saw her move in but I haven’t seen her since, so I think she’s out? Then there’s Jean, he arrived this morning. I think he’s out at dinner with his parents.”   
“I guess that makes me the last to arrive,” Christa said, smiling shyly. “I should probably go and dump my bag in my room.”  
“Oh, yours is Room B. It has a window view, or it should,” Sasha said, “Want me to help you with your case?”   
“I should be able to manage,” Christa said. “Thanks for the offer though.”  
“Well, you get unpacked, then come join us? Me and Connie are having some tea. I’ll make you a cup. Connie, get the kettle on.”   
“You get the kettle on,” came the sullen reply. “I’m trying to figure this form out.”

Sasha offered her another cheerful smile as she walked back into the kitchen. Christa felt a little less nervous now. She seemed nice, approachable. She wondered if the two of them were a couple. They were lucky to already know someone on campus. Making friends probably wouldn't be too difficult?

Room B was located at the end of the corridor, the furthest from the kitchen and the front door. The corridor was dark with no windows and a scratchy office-style carpet. There was a yellow light bulb hanging from the centre of the ceiling but no other light-bulbs. Room A was opposite the kitchen and had a small piece of paper with ‘Sasha’ written on it in bright green letters, hanging off the board that hung from the door. Room C was next to the small bathroom, Christa poked her head around the door. There was a narrow shower and a shinning white sink and a small mirror. Room C, unlike Sasha’s room had no sign of personalisation on the door, giving it the impression that its owner had not yet arrived. Room D was opposite hers by the back door of the flat. It was open, propped by a large cardboard box filled with books and what looked like a football trophy. Christa could only see through the crack the door left open, but the room was already filled with boxes and things. The little paper sign on the door read ‘Jean’s Room’. 

Just in case we get confused, Christa thought, smirking to herself as she slipped her key into the lock. Maybe I’ll decorate my door board as well? This is home now, after all. 

Her new room smelt of paint as she slipped inside. It was smaller than her bedroom at the house with the red door. There was a single bed with a thin mattress, a small bedside table, a long wooden desk, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe in the far corner. There were two shelves set up above the desk and most favourably, a large window. Christa propped her case against the bed and strode over to the window. Outside her window were the woods. It was so beautiful, dense trees, a tiny winding footpath a stone’s throw from this room. Maybe she’d get some work done this way? This was the sort of view people found inspiring. Christa settled into the desk chair, spinning lazily on it and eventually rolling it back to her suitcase which she heaved onto the bed. Underneath the desk she noticed was a black bag. Students were required to bring their own bedding. They had saved her the trouble of bringing her own on the train and had arranged for it to be left there for her. Christa unzipped her case, awkwardly lifting the pile of clothes and putting them on the bed. She scooped up the black bag and glanced inside. The sheets were a pale sky blue. She wondered briefly who had chosen them for her. Her mother certainly wouldn’t have. Perhaps it had been That Man. She doubted that. These sheets were pale blue just like her eyes. Was that the colour people saw in her? This is what they perceived as her colour? 

My favourite colour is orange, she thought to herself as she began to load her clothes inside the drawers. They could have found out if they’d asked Granny. 

Her stuff was surprisingly easy to unpack. Was that depressing? Everything she owned could be piled into one manageable suitcase and unloaded into a new space within a few minutes? Her clothes were hung up. Her things were put away. She had a photograph of the farm on her mantelpiece. It was the one reminder of home. She had no photo of her grandparents or her mother. 

This room didn’t look very personal, she mused. It looks like it could belong to anyone. So long as they wore the same kinds of clothes and shoes as me. Maybe I’ll get some flowers. Flowers brighten up a room nicely. 

“Hey, Crystal, I have your tea,” came Connie’s voice.  
“Christa, her name is Christa.”   
Christa opened the door and smiled warmly at them.   
“Oh, thank-you! Would you like to come in?” She stepped back as the two of them instantly piled inside, eagerly looking around.   
“Your bed is small like mine,” Sasha said, sitting down on it. “Do you need help changing your sheets? I always think it’s easier to do it with two people.”  
“Aw, nice, your room gets a view of the forest?” Connie said, strolling up to it. “Sasha was so disappointed that hers didn’t. She’s from a forest, you know?”   
“Really?” Christa asked, “That’s awesome, where are you from originally?”  
“Oh, just erm, south of here,” Sasha said, lifting up the sheet – Christa was sure she saw her shoot daggers at Connie with her eyes. “I’m from nowhere interesting or anything like that. How about yourself?”   
“The capital,” she said, “I lived in the capital, in the suburbs, pretty boring stuff.”   
A lie, she had only ever been to the capital twice in her life. One of those times had been today, to use the train station.   
“A city girl,” Connie said. “Awesome. Jean is from the city of Trost. He’s really snobby, so he’ll probably be all over you.”  
“He’s not that bad,” Sasha said. “He’s just a bit full of himself.”  
“We made a bad impression,” Connie said with a grin. “We drank his juice.”  
“I thought you said he just moved in this morning?” Christa said with a laugh.   
“Yeah, and his juice was delicious,” Sasha said. “We were hungover. And we will be again tomorrow.”  
“Speak for yourself,” Connie said. “I’ve got to meet my tutor tomorrow. So I need to be on top form.”

“Annie didn’t tell me where she was from,” Sasha said. “I thought perhaps another country? Somewhere like cold and tough, but I haven’t had chance to ask her yet.”  
It felt good and natural to sit with people like this. Christa perched beside Sasha on the bed as Connie swung around in the chair, grinning. They told her about the campus, about the terrible student bar they went to the night before. They already had in-jokes about Jean, the bus service, something about potatoes. It was nice being around people who got on so well. It made you feel welcome, like she could become part of the in-jokes. She was glad she met them first. 

This must be what it’s like to have friends.


	2. The New World

Chapter Two

The bar was buzzing. It felt surreal to live on a farm with what was often just her and her grandpa and grandma, to be in such a compact space surrounding by hundreds of others. The union was packed; even more so than the night before Sasha had said as their hands were stamped on the way in. She was given a drink by Connie, she asked what it was, but couldn’t hear his answer over the music. There were speakers hanging beside the door to the main hall, blaring out some tune with a heavy and erratic bass. The floor was sticky. Christa’s shoe felt stuck to it for a moment, before Sasha grabbed her hand and tugged her off towards the secondary room. It was large with a television hanging from the top left corner. The bar opposite was crowded. There was a snooker table, various sofas and a jukebox which seemed to have been unplugged. 

“That’s Annie,” Connie said.   
“Should we go and say hi?” Christa asked, peering over to where he pointed.

Around the snooker table was a girl with a sharp nose and very light blonde hair tied back. She had such a serious expression that is almost startling from just this distance. She was short and slender, yet there was a tough edge to her, perhaps it was the way she held herself? Whereas most girls at the union had dressed for the occasion, Annie wore a blue hoodie and some faded blue jeans. She was focused, leaning over the pool table to make her mark. Her pool-mates were two older guys; a very tall dark haired young man who looked about twenty-one, he was tugging at his collar from the heat, a little flustered. The other man was not as tall as his friend, but he was broader, in a tight t-shirt that revealed bulging muscles. He was blonde and jovial looking, his head thrown back as he laughed. The three of them seemed an odd trio.

“No,” Sasha said. “She’s kind of scary. We can chat to her later.”   
“I’m surprised she seems to know people already,” Connie said. “She always seemed like kind of a loner.”  
“Nothing wrong with that,” Sasha said. “Everyone is a loner at some point.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Okay, we should get shots.”  
Christa sipped her drink nervously. She had never even tried alcohol before. She wasn’t entirely sure it would agree with her. This drink tasted like orange juice with... a kick to it? It burnt slightly on the way down, but was still so much like regular juice. 

I shouldn’t drink this quickly, she said to herself. 

Shots were not a good idea. She nearly brought her first one back up, much to the delight of Connie, who laughed so hard he snorted his back through his nose, leaving a brilliant flash of wetness over his t-shirt. 

The bar man was scowling at them and handed Connie an abundance of issues to clean himself. Christa was sure she heard him mutter something about ‘disgusting’ under his breath. The bar man was quite handsome with small pale eyes and very neat black hair. He was ignoring most of the clientele and rubbing down the counter-top with a rag that smelt so strongly of anti-bacterial wash that Christa could smell it from her place, squashed between Sasha and some guy behind her. 

She felt overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people, how they sardined together, compact, all wanting to drink and dance. It was maddening. Sometimes, at the house with the red door, Christa would forget that other people existed. She knew she was real. There was only herself and the horses, her books and her grandparents. Her world always felt a little shaken when her beautiful young mother would return in one of the cars they sent. Not that her mother was a massive presence when she did return. She lived in her rooms, never ate dinner with them or lifted a finger on the farm. 

How strange it was, Christa thought as she sipped her drink, to think about my mother now. I wonder where she is. I wonder if she’s wondering about me. Probably not. 

“Sasha, I really can’t get too wasted, I have my meeting with my tutor tomorrow,” Connie said as he finished his drink. “Don’t let me get too bad, okay, Sasha?”  
“Oh, keep your tampon in,” she said. “We’re just having fun. It’s Christa’s first night.”  
“We won’t go mad,” she promised. “I’m not much of a drinker to be honest.”  
“You aren’t?”   
“Nope,” she said. “I only ever had a glass of wine on special occasions,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks going pink.  
“If my mum knew I was having hard booze, she’d eat me alive,” Connie said, shaking his head. “One time she said she’d give me and my mates beer on our graduation and then she gave it to us and it was just ginger beer.”   
Christa giggled, shaking her head. “Oh no, seriously?”  
“Yeah,” he said. “Sasha, do you remember when she gave us that wine? And it was actually just grape juice?”   
“I told her,” Sasha said, “I said, Mrs Springer, this is just grape juice. And she tried to bring out I had an unrefined pallet for alcohol.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Connie, your mum is bat-shit.”  
“She’s not,” Connie said. “She’s just a bit weird.”  
“A bit,” Sasha said, holding her forefinger and thumb half an inch apart. “A tiny bit weird.”  
“Well, more than that,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”   
“So you two have known each other before coming here?”  
“Yeah,” Sasha said. “We used to be in the scouts together. Our villages aren’t that far away.”   
“I thought only boys could join the scouts?” Christa asked.   
“I got kicked out of brownies,” Sasha admitted. “I don’t remember why-”  
“I do,” Connie added gleefully. “She kept eating all the snacks, they made her dad pay for ‘em in the-!”  
“Shut-up, Connie,” she said, going bright red.   
Christa couldn’t stop laughing, she stumbled in her high bar chair.   
“Well, what about you?” Connie asked. “In any clubs as a kid?”  
“No,” she said. “I was a really solitary little kid. I’d run around my garden, draw pictures and read. I was quiet and kind of a loner.”  
“That’s cute,” Sasha said. “I bet you were a proper little lady. I was a total tom-boy.”   
“That’s what everyone always said, I guess? Still, it must have been fun to be in the scouts.”  
“It was,” Connie said. “I learnt to tie knots really well.”  
“And we went camping.”  
“We should go camping-!” he gasped. “The woods are perfect for it behind your dorm. Plus we could just pop back if we forgot things?”  
“Are we even allowed to camp out in the woods there?” Christa asked.  
“Well, I guess we’ll see,” Sasha said, “We should. I bet it’d be fun.”  
“We shall add it to our list of fun things to do this year,” Christa said cheerfully.  
“We should also go to the beach. There’s one not far from here,” Connie added.   
“Twenty miles isn’t that far,” Sasha said brightly. “We just need a car or a bus or something.”  
“Exactly!” 

There was a loud chanting going on in the hallway between the blaring dance hall and the secondary room; a rush of people clambering up the stairs and heading towards the bar. There was a large group of girls with fake tans and high heels dancing their way through, arms raised high in the air, laughing. Others came by in smaller groups, some of them already carrying drinks. Their faces blurred together until they became a sea of faceless strangers. But then she heard one of them laugh. It was a girl, her voice was low, sensual, but her laugh was full of life, full of energy. Christa looked up and before she knew it, she was staring at her. 

The girl was tall, easily taller than Sasha and Connie, with dark skin, her cheeks and nose dotted with freckles. Her eyes were oval shaped, light brown with long lashes. Her lips curved into a smile; the kind of smile that was contagious, the kind of smile that had you smiling back, like you were friends with her, like you were in on it too.  
The girl looked up and raised an eyebrow. Christa was aware then that she was not only staring, but smiling at her rather fondly, a little too fondly. The colour rushed to her cheeks and she looked away, taking a deep gulp of her drink that made her throat burn so hard she nearly brought it back up. 

“Holy shit,” Sasha gasped, patting her back. “Easy there, Christa!”   
She coughed hard, hitting herself in the chest, gasping for air.   
“Easy there,” Connie said, patting her back. “Woah, did it go down the wrong way?”   
“Yeah,” she said, rasping and sitting up, taking a slower sip. “Yeah, sorry about that.” She didn’t dare look up unless the girl with golden brown eyes was still watching. 

Oh, for God’s sake. You big idiot... 

“Oh, it’s Mikasa, hey, Mikasa!” Sasha was waving to someone, climbing off her bar stool and rushing over to a tall dark haired girl. Christa glanced across at her. She was even taller than Sasha, half Asian with dark eyes and somewhat distant expression. She was pretty, athletic, you could tell from her posture, her strong shoulders. She was wearing a red scarf and a plain blue dress that didn’t quite suit her, as though she had not picked it herself.   
“Hello,” she said.   
“This is Christa, my flatmate,” she said. “Christa, this is Mikasa. She helped me find the canteen earlier.”  
“Nice to meet you,” she said.   
Mikasa nodded, her eyes instantly twisting to her left as Connie dived forwards to clap a boy with dark brown hair on the back. She twitched as though she wanted to step between them.   
“You know each other?” Sasha asked.  
“Yeah,” Connie said brightly. “I met Eren on the open day. It’s good to see you, man.”  
“Get off me, Connie,” the boy called Eren said, laughing and wriggling free of his bear hug. “I didn’t expect to see you straight away. This place is so big.”  
“I know,” he said. “I have gotten lost so many times already. Is Armin with you?”  
“Nah, he said he’d sit this one out,” Eren said. “He has first day nerves.”  
“Well we have all year to see each other,” Connie said brightly. “What are you guys drinking?” 

It felt a little overwhelming to be surrounded by people. A big group of people, who all knew each other, even a little bit. All of them having conversations at once. Sasha was already providing everyone with shots, Connie and Eren were chatting hurriedly. The girl named Mikasa was glowering at the bar man. It felt nice to watch, nice to look in on. But most of all, it felt overwhelming. It made her feel like she was going to be sick. 

You don’t belong here, she told herself. You don’t belong anywhere.

She shivered, hugging herself around the middle. 

“Excuse me,” she said, “I’m just going to the loo.”   
“Want me to show you where it is?” Sasha said.   
“Oh, no, I saw a sign,” Christa said quickly, “I can find it.”  
“We’ll be here when you get back.” 

She stumbled when some girls in high heels knocked into her. She wriggled past them, scurrying down into the hallway. The music was louder now. There was a band up on the stage, the drums were getting louder and louder. Christa ducked down the stairs and brushed back her hair as she glanced around for a sign for the toilets. Fortunately there was nobody around down here. It was quiet. The banging and shouting upstairs got further away the further down she got. There were no tables or chairs in the lounge below, just a canteen that was closed and an office, also closed. She sat down on the stairs and had another sip of her drink.   
This was nicer, better even, than anything upstairs. 

People were new and scary. She felt so small out there. She felt like it was all too much. She wanted so badly for a moment, to go home. She wanted to get back to the farm, to be... the girl she used to be once again. But that girl was dead. She was buried beneath the house with the red door and there was no changing that. She was Christa now. She must always be Christa. Always.

The tears came unbidden, they splattered against her knees and she covered her face with her hands, not wanting to think about them. This felt so unfair, so pointless. She wanted to call her grandmother. She just wanted to talk to her. 

They had not even let her say goodbye. 

“What are you doing down here?”   
She glanced up and saw the girl with the light brown eyes. She smiled at Christa lazily, holding a cigarette between her lips.   
“Oh, I was just... I had a headache,” she stammered shyly, “It’s nice and quiet down here.”  
“I was looking for somewhere to smoke,” the girl said, glancing around. “They have a smoking area outside, but it’s absolutely filled with social smokers. I think they’d start eating each other just to get near me.”  
“Oh right?”  
The girl smiled again. “Come on, let’s see if we can find a fire escape or something.” She climbed down the stairs past Christa, taking a few steps ahead. She glanced back at her, frowning a little. “Aren’t you coming?”  
“Erm, yes,” Christa said, getting to her feet. “I mean, I don’t smoke, but if you wanted some company, I suppose that’d be-”  
“That’s right,” she said cheerfully. “Come on, help me find a fire exit.” 

She smelled nice, Christa noticed, as they walked down the corridor. Her features were sharp, well put together. Her t-shirt clung to her body, her jeans were tight, her big chunky belt glimmered in the light. She wore big black boots that clunked when she walked. Christa hoped she wouldn’t glance her way and notice she was staring at her again. 

“Ah, here we go,” the girl said, kicking open a small pantry door with her door. It lead out onto a small staircase and a drive way at the back of the union. She closed the door behind Christa and let out a sigh of relief. “Want a cigarette?”  
“No, I don’t smoke,” Christa said. “I don’t mind it though.”  
“Sweet,” she said, lighting up and letting out a sigh. She leant against the wall, brushing back her hair. “So, I’m Ymir.”  
“Christa Lens,” she said.   
“Do you always do that?” Ymir asked, her mouth twisting into a smile.  
“Do what?”  
“Introduce yourself with your full name.”  
“Oh, erm, wow, I guess I didn’t realise I was doing it,” she said.   
Christa Lens, she was saying it like one word as well. It was nerves. Stupid bloody nerves.  
“It’s cool,” Ymir said, “I’m getting pretty bored of introducing myself as well, but I guess that’s just what happens when you come to a new place. Did you arrive today?”  
“Yes, just three hours ago actually.”  
“And you’re already in the club?” she said, smirking.  
“I said I’d go out with my flatmates.”  
“But you aren’t having fun?”  
“Well, it’s erm, my first time going to a place like this,” she admitted. “I guess I felt a little bit out of it.”   
“A student union?”  
“A big crowded bar,” she said.   
“Farm girl?”  
“What makes you say that?” she asked sharply.  
Ymir took a drag and grinned lazily at her. “I don’t know. You aren’t used to crowds, or introducing yourself. You seem pretty freaked out by all this. You have this wholesome farm girl look, it’s just a guess. Am I wrong?” She glanced up at her when she asked that, her lips twisted into a smile.   
“I actually come from the capital, just the suburbs.”  
“Oh really?” 

Something in her tone implied she knew it was a lie. Or maybe I’m just being paranoid, Christa thought. If you worry about that with every person you speak to, you’re going to end up with no friends. 

“How about yourself?” she asked.  
“Oh, I’ve come from a lot of different places,” Ymir said. “I like to travel.”   
“Have you ever been to Paris?”  
“Twice,” she said. “It’s the city of love after all.”  
“It’s a bit clichéd, isn’t it?” Christa asked. “I mean, how many people must go there, expecting to fall in love?”  
“Have you never been in love?” Ymir asked. “You seem the type who’d fall in love easily.”  
“I’m not,” she said. “What makes you say that?”  
“You stare,” Ymir said. “You’ve got such an honest face.”  
“Maybe I just stare at things that are new. Like I said, I just arrived,” Christa said, trying not to go red as she stared back into that smile.   
“That could be true,” Ymir said, nodding and leaning back against the wall. “I guess you have a point.”   
“Well, I can tell some things about you as well,” Christa said. “You don’t like answering questions.”   
Ymir glanced at her and grinned brightly, showing all her teeth. “Hey, now I resent that. I’m the most honest person I know.”  
“Oh yeah, sure,” she said, giggling. “You look kind of shifty if you asked me.”  
“Wow, that’s not nice,” she said. “I might feel wounded, Christa Lens who is not a farm girl.”  
“Suburbian,” she said. “There’s a whole race of us.”  
“Did you know lots of desperate house wives?” Ymir asked.   
“A few.” She was sure she’d heard that expression before. Why the hell did she feel like such a Martian around Ymir?   
Ymir stubbed out her cigarette against the wall and tossed it down the stairs.   
“So what are you studying?”  
“Literature,” she said. “I like reading.”  
“Cute,” Ymir said, “I’m doing literature too.”  
“Really?”  
“What’s with the tone of surprise?” Ymir asked, raising an eyebrow.   
“I don’t know, I just can’t imagine you sat with a book by a log fire.”  
“What does the log fire have to do with anything?”   
“It’s part of the stereotype.”  
“I thought the stereotype was reading poetry in a canoe?”   
“A row boat. There is something much less romantic about a canoe.”  
“Depends on the canoe,” Ymir said, laughing as she brushed back her hair. “Now, shall we head back inside, Christa? Your flatmates are probably looking for you.”   
“You’re right,” she said, dusting off her dress. “They said they’d wait for me.” 

For a second their hands touched as they closed the door. Ymir looked down at her and smiled that smile happy familiar smile. Christa knew she’d gone bright red, but still she smiled as well. She felt, suddenly less afraid of going out into that crowd. She felt as though she had Ymir’s confidence, as though she could proposition a stranger for an adventure to find a smoking area, or even dance, maybe dance. She was still internally debating the dance part. 

“Shall we?” Ymir said as they reached the staircase back to the dance floor and the bar.   
“But of course,” Christa said dramatically, doing a mock courtesy. “After you.”  
“No, I insist,” Ymir said laughing.  
“I insist more.”  
“Oh, just go up the damn stairs,” Ymir said, laughing, hooking a long thin arm between Christa’s and tugging her up the stairs after her. 

I want, Christa remembered thinking as the two of them walked back up the stairs, the pattering of their footsteps as they followed the sound of the pounding of drums above them, I want to be like her. I want to be confident and smiling. I want to exist in her world.


	3. New Morning

Chapter Three

The hangover was bad. It was bad. It was so very, very bad. 

First night of university and she ended up not sleeping in her own bed. 

Christa groaned, pushing the pizza box from her chest. What was that even doing there? She pushed it away from her causing it to slide on top of the bed and land on top of Sasha, who was sprawled across the floor of her room. There was a strange red smudge along her hand, like someone had scribbled on her with pen. 

“Ow,” she groaned, before rolling over and starting to snore again.

Christa giggled, nervously sitting up. Instantly a wave of nausea rose in her stomach and she lay right back down. This felt horrible. This felt worse than horrible. She blinked lazily at the boy lying face down on Sasha’s desk. Who was that? She tried to sit up again, but lay back down instantly regretting any sudden movement. 

“Are you awake?” the boy groaned.   
“Yes,” she said. “I feel horrible.”  
“It was the first time I ever got drunk,” he said, laughing.   
“Me too,” she said. “It was the first time I had liquor.”  
“Owch,” he groaned. “I’m Jean by the way, in case you forgot. Hello.”  
“Christa.”  
“I thought it was Crystal,” he said absent-mindedly. “It’s nice to meet you. In a minute, I’m going to try and make it to the kitchen. I think coffee will make it right again.” He groaned, brushing back his hair. “God, this room stinks.”  
“Sorry.”  
“No, it’s because we’ve all been in here. Ergh, I have to meet my parents in an hour.”   
“Try and make it to the kitchen, I’ll help.”   
“Okay, count of three?” he offered, laughing.  
“Got it.” 

He stood up slowly, bracing himself on the desk. He was tall, his hair stuck out an angle from where he’d slept on it. The top was sandy blonde but underneath was dark brown. He was wearing what appeared to be last night’s clothes. There was an ugly stain on the knee of his jeans. 

“Oh, I feel even worse vertical,” he groaned. “Come on, on your feet.”

Christa pulled back the jacket someone had thrown over her and slowly got to her feet. Her stomach groaned and heaved, but she managed. She gripped the wall and stepped over Sasha, grasping the door. 

“My head hurts,” she moaned.  
“Coffee, just think of the coffee.”   
“I don’t have any coffee in.”  
“I do, my mum stocked me up with just about everything,” he said. “I think I’m having mine black. I don’t want to look at milk.”  
“Don’t say milk,” she pleaded.

Moments later they were sat at the kitchen table, loading sugar into very black coffees. They had closed the blinds – it was unnaturally bright for this time in the morning. Jean was scrolling through his phone.

“Apparently I took a lot of photos last night,” he said. “I think this one is of Sasha?”   
“That’s her shoe,” Christa said.   
“Oh, yes, you’re right.” He laughed, tossing it aside. “I’m kind of embarrassed this is how we’re meeting. I mean, we’ll be living together all year.” He was so formal, it was kind of sweet.   
“We’ll see each other drunk again. It’s nice to meet you, Jean.”   
“Nice to meet you,” he said cheerfully. “Have you met the other girl who lives with us?”   
“Annie? No, I’ve seen her from a distance though.”  
“I haven’t seen her yet,” he admitted. “She was out when I got here with my folks, and she wasn’t with you all last night. What’s she like?”  
“Well, Connie and Sasha described her as a scary loner,” she said. “But I bet she’ll be really nice.”

Suddenly the door gave a creak and parted open, revealing the slender girl with light blonde hair and the scariest expression. Her hair was done today. She didn’t look like a morning person, her scowl was even more prominent. 

“Oh, hello,” Jean said, getting to his feet. “I’m Jean, it’s nice to meet you.”   
“Annie,” she said, walking to the kettle and filling it. She bent down and produced the largest coffee cup Christa had ever seen from the bottom right shelf. She was filling it with coffee, glancing back at them as Christa raised her voice.  
“I’m erm, Christa. It’s nice to meet you.”  
“Hello,” she said.   
“We arrived yesterday,” Jean said. “Not together, we erm, yeah.”  
“I thought so,” she said.   
“Did you go out last night?” Jean asked.  
“Yes,” she said in a tone that invited no further questions.  
“Hung-over?” Jean asked again after a few minutes.  
“No,” she said.   
“Really? I feel like my head is going to fall off.”  
“Just lucky I guess.” She filled her coffee up to the top. “See you.” The door closed behind her, leaving the two of them in baffled silence.  
“She is scary,” Jean whispered after they heard Annie’s door close.  
“She might just be a little shy.”  
“That’s some version of shy,” he said. “Did you see that enormous mug she was drinking from?”   
“I guess everyone has their coffee fix.”  
“Yeah, but I mean, you and me have drunk the whole sugar pot along with it,” he said. “And I would not go as far as to say she’s sweet enough.”  
“That’s not nice,” she said, shaking her head and giggling.   
“I bet she is just hungover,” Jean said. “So erm, what are you studying?”   
“English literature,” she said.   
He smiled at her, “That’s so ladylike.”  
“Is it?” she said. “I just like to read, that’s all. How about you?”  
“I’m doing international politics. I want to be a politician someday.”  
“Wow, that’s a pretty big dream.”  
“I was involved with my political youth group back home,” he said. “I’m from Trost by the way. I think I remember you saying you’re from the capital?”  
She remembered the conversation vaguely. They had been sat in a takeaway, the same place Sasha brought the pizza. Sasha was chatting to the delivery boy, and Jean and Christa were sat by the table in the window, watching Connie take a piss in an alleyway. Why had they been watching him? What...?   
“Yes, I’m from the suburbs.”  
“So white picket fence? Lots of company cars? The works?”  
“Yes,” she said. “It was pretty boring there.”  
“It was the same for me too,” he said. “I went to school in the city centre though, spent most of my time there.”  
“I was home schooled.”  
“What, really? I didn’t know people still did that.”

Home schooled? Why did she say she was home schooled? What a stupid thing to say? It was going to make her sound weird. But, it would explain why she had no classmates, no school stories that weren’t embarrassingly feeble lies. 

“Yeah, I was home schooled.”  
“So this is your first time attending with others?”  
“Yes, I guess so. I like it so far.”  
“Was it your mum who taught you?”  
“My grandmother.”  
“I bet she’d be shocked that you ended up sleeping in someone else’s room on your first night away,” he said, chuckling. “Mind you, mine would be mortified if she knew I’d slept in a girl’s room last night.”   
Christa giggled. “I promise not to tell her if I meet her.”  
“I’d be grateful,” he said. “There’s another coffee in it for you.”  
“Excellent,” she said. “Do you know anyone else here? I mean, Sasha and Connie are old buddies from the scouts.”  
“I didn’t know girls could be in the scouts.”  
“Yeah, don’t ask Sasha about it,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t know anybody.”  
“I’m the same,” he said. “Nobody from my school came to uni here.”  
“That makes me feel much better. Connie even knew that guy Eren from the open day. I didn’t even come to an open day.”  
“Really? How did you know you weren’t going to hate it?”  
“I trusted the brochure.”   
“That’s a lot of trust. I hope you like it now,” he said, shaking his head as he laughed. “Connie knows that Eren guy?”  
“Yeah, they met on the open day or something?” she said.   
“Do you know if that Mikasa girl was his girlfriend?”  
“No, I don’t.” 

Jean frowned a little. He was so transparent. Clearly he liked Mikasa. 

“I hope I didn’t embarrass myself last night,” he mumbled, fiddling with the rim of his coffee cup. “I mean, you don’t want to make a bad first impression on someone new.”  
“Oh, right,” she said smiling lazily, sipping her coffee.   
“Morning,” Sasha groaned as she came in, dragging her bed sheets after her. She plonked herself into the chair at the head of the table. “Why did we all sleep in my room?”  
“Your laptop was on,” Jean said. “I think we were watching a film?”   
“We put on Dancing with the Stars,” Christa said. “I’m sure there was a reason why.”  
“I hate that show,” she groaned. “Morning pizza though? Anybody want a slice?”  
“No,” Jean said. “Don’t, I’ll be sick if I look at food.” He got up, holding his stomach. “I’m going to go and make myself presentable. I’m pretty sure my mother will make me come home if she sees me looking like such a mess on my first day.” 

“He’s a mama’s boy if I ever saw one,” Sasha said, chuckling as he walked out. “How are you feeling this morning?”  
“Not the best,” she said. “I have never been drunk before.”  
“You did well,” Sasha said. “No vomiting. That’s rare among beginners.”  
“Oh, well, that’s good, I suppose.”   
“Oh!” she gasped, fiddling into the folds of her jacket. “I remember being told to pass this along. It’s the number of that girl you were chatting to.”  
“What?” Christa squeaked, sitting up abruptly.   
“Yeah, she said you met her in the smoking area or something? She was tall with freckles. I think she got me to dance on that stage?” 

It was coming back in flashbacks. She was on the dance floor in a circle with the others. Connie was spinning her around and round. She couldn’t hear her laughter over the pounding of the bass. She stumbled out of the circle and crashed head first into Ymir who was passing with a group of girls with bright blue hair. She remembered Ymir dancing with them. She remembered how she moved to the music with every bit of her body, twisting and jumping and unembarrassed by it all. She had twirled Christa around. She had pushed Sasha up onto the stage, left abandoned on the opposite side of the tall. 

Had Sasha fallen off that stage?

“She said to pass it on?” Christa asked.  
“Yeah,” she said. “You had it written on your hand.”  
Oh, that explained the smudge.   
“I did wonder what that was.” 

*

Would it be desperate if she texted Ymir now? She had enjoyed being around last night. She liked her confidence. She liked her smile, her laugh. She liked the aura she gave off. Christa blushed and turned on her computer. They had given her a new computer when she came here. It was strange to have an internet connection that wasn’t near impossible. The phone lines had been terrible on the ranch, so naturally the internet suffered. Christa logged onto her email, sort of hoping that maybe her grandma would have figured out how to turn the computer on. Maybe she’d have sent her an email? They had told her that she wasn’t allowed to send letters, but surely emails would be ok? 

No contact didn’t really mean no contact, right?

Only it was them, so of course it did. 

Christa scowled at her empty inbox. She had her meeting with her tutor tomorrow and nothing until then. She closed her laptop down and peered out at the forest. She touched her window gently, resting her head on her knees as she drew them up to her chin. 

Feeling lonely sucked. She wanted to go back to Sasha’s room, maybe ask her if she wanted to explore. But what if that came across as overbearing? What if Sasha got sick of her by the end of term? 

Hey, it’s Christa. We met last night.   
Not sure if you remember me? 

She glanced down at the message in her phone and scowled. It didn’t sound right. It didn’t sound casual at all. It sounded weird and forced and awful. 

Hey, it’s Christa. Your memo on my arm got smudged.   
Thanks for leaving a better one with Sasha.   
How are you doing? 

That was a little better? Only a little better though. Oh this was hopeless. How did people ever manage to do this, even casually? Christa stuffed her phone back into her pocket and tugged on her jacket. She stepped out of the flat, dangling her keys from her little finger. This time she chose to stairs over the creepy elevator. They weren’t any less scary. They made screeching sounds when your shoe touched the ground. The walls on the third floor were grey like ash and dark around the window. The light on the stairwell was badly damaged and flickered. It was unnerving even in the day. It was like the aim was to scare you on your way to your room. 

Christa stepped out through the back door, closing it behind her and stepping out into the woods. She let out a sigh, enjoying the fresh air. The forest smelt good, sort of bright and clean. It was so green. She almost hadn’t expected it to be that green. Christa fastened her sneakers and stepped out; the footpath was faded and old, but still visible. There was something relaxing about going for a walk. The campus would be fun to explore. She almost wished she’d brought her bicycle or one of the horses. Her favourite horse would love it here. 

No, stop it, she chided herself. Stop thinking about the old place. It’s not fair on you. You can’t move on if you stay living in the past. 

She kicked a rock onto the grass, scowling at herself. It wasn’t enough to just enjoy this for what it was. It wasn’t enough to be grateful to get out of there, to be given an opportunity to start again. The same could not be said for her mother. 

Christa walked a little faster, breaking off into a run. She could hear her shoes against the ground, thumping as she turned, her skirt bunching between her legs, nearly tripping her as she stepped on the hem. She tugged it up a little and ran faster. If she ran, the world went away. The trees blurred together. She was running away from the ranch, away from the life they gave her like a gift she wasn’t sure how to unwrap, away from everything hard and awful.   
Being Christa Lens was hard. 

Nobody had prepared her for that. 

She stopped abruptly, nearly tripping when she spotted someone sat by the creak. She panted, wiping her eyes – she was sure she’d accidentally cried. She recognized the blue hoodie from yesterday. Annie was sat by the creak, tossing stones in. 

“Oh, hello, Annie,” she said. “It’s me again, Christa, from the flat.”  
“I know,” she said. “Nice to see you.” She barely looked up and nothing about her expression suggested it was nice to see her at all.   
“It’s nice here,” Christa said. “The stream, I mean. I was just exploring.”  
“That’s good,” she said.   
“What are you studying, Annie?”  
“International politics.”  
“That’s like Jean,” she said. “The guy who lives with us. Maybe you two could walk to class together? If you have the same modules?”  
“Maybe,” she said. “What are you studying?”  
“English literature,” she said.   
“Because you like to read.”  
“Yes actually.”  
“You have to read the Ancient Mariner,” Annie said. “It’s on the reading list for term one.”  
“You checked out the list?”  
“I thought about doing literature,” she said. “It looks like you spend ages on the Ancient Mariner. I like it, but not that much.”   
“International politics is pretty different from literature,” Christa said.   
“I suppose so.”  
“I hope you like it though,” she said. “Do you know anyone on your course yet?”  
“My brother Reiner goes to university here,” she said. “He’s a big dumb ape. He studies physiotherapy.”   
“It must be good having a brother here though.”  
“He gave me a tour yesterday. My dad made him.”  
“So you’re finding a few more spots on your own?”  
“Yes,” she said, glancing up at her for the first time. “You’re wearing the wrong type of clothes for jogging.” 

Christa blushed. So she had seen. 

“It was an unplanned jog.”  
“You’ll fall that way,” she said. “If you want jogging clothes, I’m about the same size as you. You can borrow them.” The way she spoke was harsh, blunt. She didn’t mix her words. Yet the gesture was so kind that Christa couldn’t help but smile.   
“That would be really nice,” she said. “I don’t have a whole lot of clothes. You can borrow some of mine if you’d like.”   
“I don’t really wear skirts,” Annie said.   
“Never?”  
“Never,” she said. “Not even for my graduation.”  
Christa giggled. “My grandma would be scandalised. She hated my summer shorts.”  
“You live with your grandparents then?”  
“Yes,” she said. “I mean, until recently. I mean-” She could feel herself going red. “I mean, until I came here, obviously.”  
“Right,” she said. “I’m going to head back inside. Are you coming along?”  
“Erm, yes,” she said. Christa picked out her phone as Annie walked ahead of her. 

Hey, this is Christa from last night. How’s the hangover? 

She pressed send.


	4. New Dance

Chapter Four

“Do you really do drama?” Jean asked as the four of them sat around the table at the student union. It was remarkably emptier than it had been yesterday, with just a handful of people sat around the tables. The TV was playing the music channel, the sound not quite in sync with the pictures on the screen. They were sharing a plate of nachos, which to Jean’s annoyance was being made short work by Sasha and Connie, who were ravenous. 

“Yeah,” Connie said.   
“Because you want to be an actor?”  
“I am an actor,” he said. “I just thought I’d get better at it.”  
“I’m an actor too,” Sasha said.   
“You’re an actress,” Jean corrected. “Or you’re going to be an actress. Or, that’s why you’re doing a degree anyway.”  
“No, I’m doing a degree because my dad said I couldn’t get one,” she said. “I want to see the look on that old geezer’s face when I graduate.”  
“Acting is my dream,” Connie said. “You don’t get it, Jean. You’re not creative like us.”

Jean scowled, before flushing and suddenly leaping to his feet, dislodging the plate of nachos.   
“Jean-! What the hell are you doing?!” Connie gasped as a layer of salsa was dislodged and splattered against his shirt. 

Christa giggled behind her hand. Mikasa had entered the room accompanied by Eren and a nervous looking boy with a blonde bobbed haircut. Jean was old fashioned and sweet. He had been embarrassed since his mother had kissed him on the cheek in front of Sasha and Connie before she left on her drive back to Trost. 

“Hello,” Eren said, taking the seat next to Connie. “Mind if we join you?”  
“No,” Sasha said with her mouth full. “We just got here.”  
“Everyone this is Armin,” Eren said, gesturing to the blonde boy who offered a shy smile, his eyes flickering over everyone. “He’s an old friend of mine.”  
“Hi,” Christa said, “I’m Christa, this is Sasha, that’s Jean, and do you know Connie already?”  
“No,” Armin said, “It’s nice to meet all of you.”

Jean was blushing, unable to even look Mikasa in the eye. She was perched on a bar stool beside the table in order to make room for Eren. She was so serious looking; it seemed odd that this was the kind of girl Jean liked. From what Christa had seen of him, she kind of got the impression he wanted to be with someone sweet and supportive, somebody he wouldn’t need to show off in front of. It was also pretty clear that Mikasa would never love anyone as much as she loved Eren. The way she watched him was as intense as a mother-hen. 

“Guys, are we going crazy again tonight?” Connie said brightly. “We have six days before classes officially start.”  
“I’m up for that,” Sasha said, high-fiving him across the table. “Maybe we could even go six days in a row?”   
“And get a busted liver before first year even begins?” Jean said. “Going out tonight sounds good though, if everyone else is coming.” He glanced over at Mikasa. “Are you coming, Mikasa?”   
“Yes,” she said.   
“Hell yes,” Eren said, grinning at her. “I’m going to get started. Mikasa, Armin, you ok with beer?” He climbed out from his seat, picking his wallet out of his trousers.   
“Erm, sure,” Armin said, fiddling with his collar. “But maybe a tap water too?”   
“Fine,” Mikasa said. “I’m getting the next round.”  
“I love beer,” Jean said. “Eren, I’ll help you carry the drinks.”  
“No way, man, I got it,” Eren said, looking a little affronted as Jean leapt to his feet and scrambled over Armin to follow him.  
“No, I insist.” He smiled nervously. “Let’s go to the bar.”  
Mikasa watched after them before settling back down.   
“So, Mikasa, do you and Eren live together on campus?” Sasha asked.  
“No,” she said. “I tried to have it arranged, but it wasn’t possible. I’m in a flat with just girls.” She sounded despondent. “Although, we are in the same building.”   
“That’s good, at least that way you can keep an eye out for him?” Christa said. “You’re so protective. It’s very sweet.”

She nodded, glancing down at the empty plate of nachos, then back across the bar. Her eyes narrowed. 

“What is it?”  
“I don’t like that barman,” she said.   
Armin glanced across, following her gaze.  
“Levi Ackerman,” Armin said, “He’s a cousin of yours, isn’t he?”   
“Yes,” she said. “Eren likes him, but I personally don’t see it.”  
“What’s wrong with him?” Sasha asked.   
“Oh, he’s that barman,” Connie said. “The guy whose always scowling.”  
“He’s doing a PhD here,” Mikasa said. “He’s meant to be pretty smart. I’ve never seen it.”  
Armin smiled to himself, not saying a word.   
Christa glanced down at her buzzing phone.   
Are you out tonight? Ymir x 

She smiled softly. She had been enjoying Ymir’s texts. She had told her about her walk in the woods, meeting Annie, her waking up with a pizza box on top of her. Ymir had told her about her weird flat that smelt strongly of paint and had a suspicious brown stain on the top left corner of her bedroom. 

Yeah, we’re at the student union again. How about yourself? Christa xxx

She smiled to herself, pocketing her phone again. Jean had re-appeared carrying beers for Mikasa and Armin, the glass of water tucked in against them. 

“I used to be a waiter during the summer holidays,” he said. “I am a master at carrying things.”

Mikasa nodded, smiling at him. Before glancing back over in Eren’s direction. Christa followed her gaze to see Eren sat on the bar stool, chatting happily to the dark haired bartender from the other night. Levi Ackerman was scrubbing glasses vigorously as he spoke. 

I’m still at my flat. I’m trying to get to know everybody. Making good impressions, am I right? Ymir x

Well if the conversation slips too much, it’s pretty busy at the union. We could probably hide you?   
Christa X

You’re sneakier than I first thought. Nice. Are you out with the potato chip girl? Ymir x

The potato chip girl? Christa xxx

Your flatmate with the brown hair? Ymir x

“Hey, Sasha, why does Ymir call you the potato chip girl?” Christa asked brightly. 

Sasha instantly went red. 

“Oh!” Jean gasped, “Oh!” He pointed at Sasha like he’d never seen her before. “You tried to get them out of that vending machine last night!”  
“No, no, I didn’t-!”  
“Yes you did,” he said. “It was out of order so you started kicking it-! That barman went mental-!” He gestured back to Levi, now howling with laughter. “And then, that girl, Ymir, called you potato chip girl.”   
“No, she didn’t,” Sasha said. “I’m going to get a drink.” She scrambled up over the top of the sofa and dashed up the bar a little too quickly. 

“Don’t tease her,” Connie said. “She gets manic when she’s hungry. So what? I fart in my sleep.”  
“Ew,” Jean said, frowning.  
“How do you know if you do?” Armin asked with such an honest expression on his face Christa couldn’t tell if he was joking.   
“I got told,” he said. “Everyone has something weird. What’s yours, Jean?”  
“I don’t do anything weird,” he said, affronted, he was glancing across at Mikasa, who seemed utterly detached, lazily picking at the label on her beer.   
“Everyone does,” Connie went on. “Sasha sometimes draws faces onto vegetables and has them make conversations with each other. And sometimes she speaks in a weird language when she sleeps.”  
“What language does she speak?”  
“I don’t even know. She sounds like a racoon or an alien,” Connie said with a shrug. “It’s totally weird.”  
“You do realise you’re just listing more embarrassing stuff about Sasha, don’t you?” Jean said, shaking his head.   
“Oh shit,” Connie said, laughing. “Well, just don’t mention it when she comes back.” 

Christa glanced back at the scowling dark haired barman. She couldn’t really imagine him getting cosy with anyone. He was so stern looking. 

She was not aware she had a nickname. Christa xx

Oops. Oh well. So, will you still be at the union in an hour? Ymir xx

Maybe. I’ll let you know if we move? Christa xxx

It’d be good to see you again. Ymir x

“Are you texting Ymir?” Connie asked. “Is she coming out?”   
“I think so?” she said. “She’s with her flatmates at the moment.”   
“The guys I’m living with seem cool,” Connie said, “They’re kind of chilled. I think one of them has a girlfriend here so he’s always out with her. The other guy, Thomas, I think, he’s already hanging with the basket ball team.”  
“Are you living with dudes?” Jean asked, laughing.  
“Real dudes,” Connie said.   
“The guy whose living with me and Eren is nice,” Armin said, “Marco. He’s really friendly and down to earth. I was kind of worried about who we’d be staying with.”  
“Is it just the three of you?” Christa asked.   
“Yeah,” Armin said. “It would have been nice if the three of us could have lived together, but Mikasa is never far away.”   
“The three of you are friends from home?”   
“Eren’s family adopted Mikasa when she was nine. I’ve known Eren since we were really little. He used to beat up kids who picked on me when we were practically toddlers.”   
“That’s so cute,” Sasha said, climbing down into her seat. “I did the same for this one when we were little.”  
“You didn’t,” Connie said, scowling. “Kids made fun of you because you’re a glutton.”  
“I am not-!”

Eren sat down at the end of the booth; he was smiling to himself, glancing shyly over his shoulder at the bar, before he resolved to sit there, looking coy as he passed out the beers. Mikasa was now openly glaring at the barman. All of a sudden everyone was talking at once. Everyone had something to say, something to add to the conversation. Christa felt like the rug had been swept out from under her feet. She sipped her drink and instantly regretted doing so as the bubbles from the beer tickled her throat like bile. She could hear the people in the booth opposite, the people gathered around the pool table, the people sat around the little tables, gathering around the bar. It was daunting. There were so many of them already. By the end of this week all the new students would have arrived. Campus would be jammed full, full of noise and sound and humans. It would be horrible. Her stomach gave an unpleasant groan and Christa found herself clambering over the top of the booth. 

“Excuse me, I need the loo,” she said to nobody in particular as only Armin looked up. She dashed out of the hall, her boots clicking on the stairs as she ran down to the toilets. She remembered where the toilets were, she had been past them with Ymir the night before. There was a gang of girls giggling by the sinks as she came in. Christa reached the furthest cubicle before bundling herself inside. She put the toilet lid down and sat on top of it, drawing her knees to her chest. She took a deep breath, and then another one, and then another one. 

This felt safe. It felt much safer in here than it did out there. This felt ok again. Her stomach churned and Christa pressed her face tight against her knees. Her eyes filled with tears. She took another set of deep breaths. 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She ignored it. Then it did it again and again.   
She picked it up and saw Ymir’s name flash across the screen. 

Are you still at the union? Ymir x

Christa wiped her eyes. She didn’t want to see Ymir when she was all freaked out and crying like this. She wiped her eyes with her cardigan sleeve. 

Don’t tell me you’ve left already, dirty stop-out. Ymir x

No, we’re still here. Christa xxxx

Sweet – seeya in 20 Ymir x

She got to her feet, wiping her sweating forehead with a tissue. Shaking as she walked out of the toilets and back up the stairs, her knees trembling. 

“Mikasa, I’m not a little kid,” Eren said. “Levi is cool. He was telling me about the climbing society.”  
“He’s a shifty midget,” Mikasa said in her strange, definite voice. She sipped her beer, frowning a little.   
Eren rolled his eyes. “You are just... impossible today,” he said, ruffling her hair. “So, does anyone else know what society they’ll be joining?”  
“I’m obviously joining the Interpol society,” Jean said. “But I was thinking about going for student council too. It’s the most prestigious about here.”  
“Vote for Jean,” Connie said, waving an invisible flag.   
“Make fun if you will,” Jean said. “But I have pretty big ambitions for myself.”  
Christa saw Eren smirk into his beer. He noticed her watching and smiled as if to say, ‘This guy, am I right?’ She giggled, glancing back down at her skirt as she attempted to finish her beer. It really was horrible. She either had to try and different kind, or start drinking something else right away. Maybe she could learn a few drinks names along the way?   
“I’m going to be in plays,” Connie said.   
“And I’m going to do all the stunts,” Sasha said cheerfully.  
“Do you even get stunt doubles in plays?” Jean asked.   
“Yes,” Sasha said.   
“How?” Jean asked.   
“I pop up from behind a curtain wearing the same costume and a wig or a skin cap. It works, it looks perfect,” she said, waving a hand dismissively.   
“Poor simple Jean,” Connie said. “He doesn’t get creative things like we do.”   
Jean just laughed, shaking his head exasperatedly. “What about you, Christa? Armin?”   
“Erm, I haven’t looked at any yet,” Christa said.   
“Me neither really,” Armin said. “I was going to wait until the society fair before deciding on anything. What are your hobbies, Christa?”  
“Christa likes horses,” Sasha said. “She grew up on a farm.”  
“I thought you lived in the suburbs?” Jean asked, glancing across. 

Oh shit. Oh shit. 

For a second she could hear the speech forming on her lips. 

My name is Christa Lens. I came from our capital but I lived in the suburbs. I lived with my grandparents and was home-schooled there until I was seventeen. I am looking forward to studying at a university. I love to read novels. It’s nice to meet you. I hope we can be friends-

“I do,” she said, “But when I was little I lived on a farm for a while,” she said. “I’ve always really liked animals. My grandma said I had a way with horses.”   
“There might be some society that lets you work with animals?” Armin said.   
“I hope so,” she said. She missed riding horses. She missed the wind in her hair. She missed feeling like – if she wanted – she could ride for miles, away from the ranch, away from everything. She’d just ride and ride until she saw the sea. “Although, it could be fun to try something completely new.”  
“When is the society fair, Eren?” Armin asked.   
“Thursday,” he said. “It’s when I’m going to sign up for the climbing society. Armin, it really would be fun if you came along.”  
“I don’t have the stamina for climbing,” Armin said, laughing. “I might not even join the gym.”  
Eren pouted a little. “Would’ve been more fun together.”  
“I could come with you?” Mikasa offered.  
“No way,” he said. “Those fencing guys would murder me if I stole you.”  
“You’ve been scouted for fencing already?” Sasha asked.   
“They saw her at nations in high school,” Eren said. “She’s going to be on the university team already.”   
“You must be great at it,” Connie said in awe.   
“Fencing is such an elegant sport,” Jean said adoringly.   
Eren just laughed, shaking his head. “Not the way Mikasa does it. She’s like a beast.”

Mikasa neither confirmed nor denied this. She took another swig from her beer and gazed off into the distance. She looked elegant when she did, like a samurai from an old novel. Christa wondered if she was thinking melancholic or evanescent thoughts when she gazed off like that. Maybe? 

“Hey,” Sasha gasped, jumping as a hand reached down and picked up the near empty plate of nachos in front of her. It was covered in a mess of sauces and crumbs. Christa glanced up to see the barman with dark hair, Levi Ackerman, standing over them, a wash cloth tucked under his arm. 

“Weren’t you done?” he asked coldly. Up close he looked more scary than handsome, like an ex-thug or a gangster. Christa did not blame Sasha for laughing loudly and nervously and quickly piling up any leftover plates and empty glasses. As he turned to walk away, Levi turned back and said, “Eren, I’ll look forward to seeing you at climbing.”  
“Oh, yes,” Eren said, jumping to his feet. “It’ll be great to train with you-!” He’d gone all kinds of red.  
“I think someone is in love,” Jean whispered to Connie. 

Christa nearly jumped out of her seat as she felt hands clasp down on her shoulders and someone nearby shout ‘BOO!’ She swung out her hand and nearly scratched Armin across the face.   
“Ymir-!” she yelled out in shock. “You scared me-!”  
“Oh, you’re so jumpy,” she said, laughing. “Right, budge up, folks.” She clambered over the booth, squashing herself between Christa and Connie, cramming Jean against the wall and nearly knocking Armin off the end.   
“Do you MIND?” Jean protested.   
“I’ve got it,” Armin said quickly, getting up and moving to perch on the end of the seat next to Eren.   
Ymir just laughed, shaking her head and stretching out. “Nice spot you have here. So, is this where we’re staying for the night?”  
“Levi said there are better bars in the town?” Eren suggested. “He said there was this one really great one...”  
“Which one?” Jean asked. “Taxis would be cheaper if we go in a big group.”   
“Knowing that midget,” Mikasa said thoughtfully, “It’ll be the cleanest one.”  
“Recon has the least sticky floor,” Ymir said. “It’s pretty reasonably priced as well. Are we up for it, everyone?”   
In all honesty, Christa hated the idea. The idea of going off campus scared her a little.   
“Although,” Armin piped up. “We do have a lot more offers on campus bars at the moment. It could be easier than heading down town so late?” It felt a little better to see somebody else was nervous of going somewhere different too.   
“Late? The night is still young,” Ymir said.   
“It could be good to go as a group,” Eren said. “I mean campus is pretty busy. I bet most people don’t know about town clubs yet.”  
“Minimum crowds?” Ymir said, grinning across at Christa. “Sound good?”   
“It could be cool to see off-campus,” Sasha said.   
Ymir reached across to high-five her. “See, Potato-Chip-Girl is coming.”  
Sasha winced, trying to think of the right way of saying, ‘No, I hate that nickname-!’ But it never seemed to come up.  
“Christa?”   
Stay here and then go home.  
Stay here and then go home.  
Go somewhere new and different and scary.   
Go somewhere new and unknown and –   
She glanced across and saw Ymir’s smile.   
“Well, I guess it could be fun,” she said shyly.   
“Sweet, that’s my Christa,” she said laughing, scooping an arm around her shoulders.   
“I’ll go if Eren goes,” Mikasa said firmly.   
“I’m one hundred and ten percent going,” Jean said brightly. 

*

The club was surprisingly empty and much quieter than Christa had expected. The floor was clean too, kind of shiny. She was stood at the bar with Mikasa and Armin, looking out at the others. Ymir was dancing with Connie and Sasha, three of the six people on the dance floor. Well, Ymir was dancing, with more grace than Christa expected, or remembered from the night before, whilst Connie and Sasha were practicing some bizarre form of dance fighting. They were high kicking and leaping all over the place, fingers poised like Bruce Li. 

“Hi, what can I get you?”

The barman at Recon wore thick glasses with long dark hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She, or perhaps he, was hairless, yet there was something about how he held himself that suggested he could be a man. He had a lovely smile, kind of wide and eccentric, showing all teeth. 

“Lemonade please,” Armin said.   
“Coming right up, and for you, ladies?”   
“Do you do any fruity drinks? I’m tired of beer,” Christa said, laughing shyly.  
“Well, I’d recommend the Blueberry Explosion off our cocktail menu.”  
“I’d like that please.”  
“Just beer for me,” Mikasa said. 

At this point Jean appeared between her and Christa, slightly pink in the face. “I’ll get that. I’ll get it for you.”

Mikasa blinked at him as though she hadn’t quite understood. “But I have my own money?”  
“I know,” Jean said, his face going even darker. “I know you do. I’d just quite like to pay for yours.”  
“If you really want too?” she said, pocketing her purse, still confused.   
“I do,” he said, glancing around in mild panic. “And I shall also buy yours, Christa and Armin. Drinks on me. Would you like one?” he asked the barman, who laughed.   
“Oh Jean, you don’t have too,” Christa said as he passed her the cocktail with shaking hands. “Let me give you some cash for it.”  
“No, no,” he said, “This erm, one is my treat, miss.” 

Oh Jean. She wanted to hug him. Any minute now he’d buy the whole bar a drink out of embarrassment. As Mikasa took her beer, nodding thanks and headed back over to Eren with Armin, the barman patted Jean on the arm.

“Smooth, buddy,” she said. “Here, do shots with me. On the house.”  
“I need them,” Jean moaned. “I’m so smooth.” 

The barman filled two shot glasses with what smelt like whisky. She raised it to her lips before knocking it back with ease. Jean tried to do the same and twitched as it went down. 

“Argh, what was that? Liquid fire?”

“Sure was, Romeo,” the barman said.   
Jean trembled, twisting his head. “Righto, thanks.” He awkwardly strolled off rather awkwardly. 

“What a gent,” Ymir said, “A terrible pick up artist, but a gent nonetheless.” She laughed, shaking her head. “What did he get you? A cocktail? Is it purple?”   
“Yeah,” Christa said, “It’s called a Blueberry Explosion?”  
“Let me try,” she said, bending down and taking the curly straw between her lips. “Mm, I like it. I’m gonna get one. Wait here.” She dashed off to the bar, leaving Christa stood awkwardly between the bar and the dance floor, gazing after her. She could see Eren, Mikasa and Armin sat around a table, chatting contently. Connie and Sasha were still doing their kung-fu dance fighting. Jean stood examining some of the wall posters for a few minutes before awkwardly heading over to Eren and the others, attempting to look blasé and casual.   
Ymir appeared beside her and chinked their glasses together.   
“Cheers, Drink-Twin.”  
“Oh, cheers!”   
She took too big a gulp of her drink, causing a few seconds of panic and awkward coughing. Ymir was laughed at her, shaking her head, leading her to another little table.   
“So you ditched your flat?”   
“Yeah,” she said. “Petra had to go to her part time job and the others are kind of boring without her,” Ymir explained with a shrug. “I see the other girl from your flat isn’t out tonight?”   
“Annie? No, she’s staying in.”  
“What’s she like?”  
“She’s a little scary but also nice.”  
“That sounds confusing,” she said. “I guess I’ll meet her eventually.”  
“Her brother goes here too,” she said. “He’s in his final year.”  
“That’s a little weird, isn’t it?” Ymir asked. “Going to the same uni as your sibling?”   
“I don’t think it’s that weird.”  
“Fair enough,” she said, sipping her drink. “So, Christa, what’s your favourite thing about horses?”  
“I like how you have to earn their trust, but once you have it, you’re friends for life.”  
“You’re so cute,” Ymir said, pinching her cheek. “Now, what’s your favourite colour?”  
“I like sunset orange,” Christa said. “How about you?”  
“I like emerald green,” Ymir admitted. “I always wanted to own an emerald.”  
“And don’t you? Not even a little one?”  
“No way,” she said, “I can just about afford a decent night out.”   
“How long have you smoked?” Christa asked.   
“Far too long. How are you enjoying your second night at university?”  
“It’s fun. I really like it. Where did you live before you travelled?”  
“Somewhere far away and very dull. What’s your favourite book?”  
“Rebecca by Daphne De Maurier. Why don’t you answer my questions?”  
“Because I’m annoying like that,” Ymir said cheerfully.   
“Yes you are,” Christa said, though she couldn’t stop smiling. “Do you have a boyfriend?” she asked. Confident people always had boyfriends. Although deep down there was a part of her that thought it would be a terrible shame if she did.   
“Ew, no,” Ymir said, “Now that’s a weird question. I didn’t think I looked the type.” She smirked, glancing across at Christa. “How about you? Eye on anyone?”

Christa felt her face going scarlet as Ymir smirked, an eyebrow raised.

“Hey-!” Connie appeared at their table, “Guys, this is such a good song. Come and dance!” He was twisting his hips and shaking his hands around like a cowboy with a lasso.   
“Oh dear,” Ymir said, “Come on, Christa, let’s get our dance on.” She clambered to her feet and offered Christa a hand. Her palm was cool and soft as Christa took it and let Ymir lead her to the dance floor. 

There was something vaguely euphoric about dancing in a club. Maybe it was the flashing lights above them? Maybe it was the way the floor trembled from the bass. But it felt incredible. Christa didn’t even know how to dance. She had bobbed about awkwardly, twisting her arms to the rhythm of the music – the lyrics were utterly lost to her. She had watched Ymir, who was so graceful, spinning and twisting and twirling. It was like she had captured the music inside her, and it was telling her which way to move.

It started to feel natural the more she copied Ymir. Ymir just laughed the way she always seemed too, beaming as she noticed Christa was copying her. She reached out and took Christa’s hand, raising it high over her head and giving it a little jerk. 

She burst out laughing when Christa stared at her confused. 

“Twirl, Christa, I’m twirling you,” she said.  
“Oh-!” Christa giggled, letting Ymir spin her around, giddy with laughter as she nearly collided into her on her way back around.   
“You are such a Martian,” Ymir said into her ear.  
“No, I am not, I’ve never even been to Mars!”

*

They all ended up in the crowded cage of a smoking area in the bar beer garden whilst Ymir finished her packet. 

“I tried once,” Connie said. “I thought it’d look cool. Only then I threw up a little bit from the head rush. I never had them again.”   
“That’s such a shame,” Ymir said, taking her packet out of her jacket, temporarily dislodging Christa, who was nuzzling into her shoulder. “Want one, Connie?”   
“What? No,” he said, laughing. “Cut it out, Ymir.”  
She laughed, sliding them back in and wrapping an arm around Christa’s shoulders.   
“I’ll have one,” Eren said sleepily from where they had propped him against the wall.   
“No he won’t,” Mikasa said.   
“Mikasa,” Jean said suddenly, slurring her name so it sounded like he’d called her ‘Me-castle’, “I just wanted to say (Eyyye jisst won tu say) that you’re the most beautiful ever (thaa yerrr the musht bew-ew-ew-tee-fulc enever).”   
“Thank-you, Jean,” she said absent-mindedly.  
Jean looked rather pleased with himself as he flopped down beside Eren, his head on his shoulder.   
“Now they look sweet together,” Armin said.   
“So, whose going to the fresher’s fair tomorrow?” Ymir asked.   
“I want to get posters,” Connie said.   
“What kind of posters?”  
“I dunno, cool ones?”  
“Ok, generic cool posters for Connie,” Ymir said. “Sasha, you coming? They serve food.”  
“I love food,” Sasha said, laughing. She was hugging Connie around the top of his little shaved head. “I don’t even care. I’m not ashamed. I could marry cheese.”

Everyone laughed at that – even Mikasa, who had a strange smile on her lips when she stopped.

“I’m going with Eren for a little bit before fencing,” she said, “I suppose it could be fun.”  
“We’re taking Marco with us too,” Armin said. “Our other flatmate. He’s really nice.”

“I’m gonna go,” Christa said into Ymir’s shoulder. “I want to decorate my room. It’s so ugly.” Everyone laughed. “No, really, is it. It’s so ugly.” That made them laugh even more. “It looks like the most boringest-” Wait, boringest wasn’t a word. Maybe that was why everyone kept laughing? Maybe she’d said a load of made up words? “Most boring room ever.”  
“Oh, Christa,” Ymir said, “No more words.” She hugged her tight.   
“Ok,” Christa said, snuggling into her happily. 

“Oi, Sasha,” Connie said, leaning back against her, “Can I stay over?”  
“Sure,” she said sleepily.   
“Please, I’ll make you breakfast.”  
“I said ok. But I would like breakfast too. We can sleep on the floor, c’os it’s bigger.”  
“Oooh,” Ymir gasped. “You two are in love!”  
“Ew-!” Sasha gasped, going pink. “That’s gay, Ymir-!”  
“Only if you were a man,” Armin said, “Sasha can also be a boy’s name.”  
“I’m not in love with Connie,” she said, laughing. “Oh my God, Ymir! Shut up-!” She threw back her head, laughing louder. “Being in love is so old-!”  
“We’re not in love,” Connie said, “We’re just having pre-marital sex.”  
“Connie-!”   
Ymir was howling with laughter.  
“Pre-marital? Like one day you’ll be having post-marital sex? Can I come to your wedding?”   
“We are not in love!” they yelled together.   
“Shut up,” Jean groaned from the ground. “Nobody cares if you’re in love. Stop yelling...”


End file.
